No More Nice Girls or Guys - We Want Sex, We Want Your Beast

by Antesa Jensen Mar 4, 2016

If you happen upon me on a Saturday afternoon, chances are likely that with little provocation, I’ll talk about anything our collective and connected hearts desire, so long as it feels palpably real and true. It’s one of my many charms – I tend to go for shock factor and I always make it feel good.

But what I’ll talk about openly and what I’ll write about publicly have often been carefully, intrinsically, divided. I’m not sure what I’m trying to protect, maybe it’s my ego and its perceived reputation, maybe it’s my readers’ egos, and while I’ll gladly sit in a cafe and discuss the power of feminine orgasm with perfect (albeit willing) strangers, I’ve yet to write on the topic anywhere that could be saved for later reference, which is funny considering how I've always viewed my writing to be the space where I can openly divulge the things my heart is navigating.

And then this morning while reading Nicole's blog – a person who let go of her shame around talking about sex in writing a long time ago – I stumbled upon a powerful quote that resonated with me deeply:

“If you love me, fuck me like you hate me.” – anonymous

And as one does, I shared it with all of my lady friends with whom I often discuss sex. Because in that focused audience I know it will be appreciated, and because I wanted to share it on facebook along all my inspirational quotes about human betterment and awakening, but felt like I couldn’t because see above about ego and reputation.

And then it occurred to me. I’m the person who, just by owning her truth, gives other people permission to own theirs. It’s how I do. I’m approval in human form. And so if I’m sitting here in shame hiding my desire to talk about sex with people who are presumably embedded somewhere in my social network, then I’m perpetuating the shame all women feel to discuss something so perfectly natural and human with their friends.

Women hide these topics from the public eye and ear because they are responding to the shame other women have about their own sex. We are so godforsakenly conditioned to believe that we don’t have a right to desire a good fucking, no less talk about it openly, that we sit seething in our silence, wondering when our victimized desire will be rescued by the proverbial Sex God, giving us the sex that we want without us having to ask for it.

So how about this: I’m fucking over it. I’m also going to swear more, because it adds a certain candid emphasis I live and breathe by, and because we need to get over ourselves, our shame, and our political correctness and just start being real with one another. And I’m going to start, and whenever you’re ready, you are welcome to follow my lead. Or not. If you want, you can just use this post as permission to discreetly feel all the things you’ve spent your life denying or numbing, and maybe over time, you’ll also understand that what you’re feeling is normal, that there is such thing as better sex than what you’re having (or not having!), and that you have a right to your own desire, whether it be sexual or otherwise.

And with that, the topic of the week amongst my lady friends has been men and their undiscovered beasts. Yes men, you all have a beast in there, and most women want you to realize it, and bring it out of the shadows. And sadly, even the most sexually emancipated among us can’t coax it out of you: while it may be the one thing all women truly want, it’s also the one thing you have to be willing to do all on your own.

We want you to make us yearn for you. We want you to go one beat slower than you are accustomed to going, that delay allowing us the possibility to feel into you and into ourselves, craving what’s next before we’ve even had the chance to taste it. We want you to take us out of control. We want you to be so connected to your beast that every move you make is a conscious reverberation that strikes the depths of our souls and immediately puts us into our involuntary.

We want you to release your beast because doing so is probably the most vulnerable and tender thing you could possibly ever do. Showing us your beast is like baring your soul, divulging your hunger for our femininity, unleashing your own desire and thus creating space for us to unleash ours.

In short: we want you to fuck us like you hate us. Because when you do that, nothing else matters beyond that moment. That is the true presence we are all looking for. It’s the engagement and the level of connection we’re currently missing. It’s the true grit and honesty that creates a level of intimacy that many go an entire lifetime without experiencing, but that is accessible to anyone who wants it.

The bad news is, the path to discovering your beast is just as laden with crossed wires as a woman’s path to freedom of sexual expression. Many woman think we have freedom of sexual expression already; the feminist movement and our moms burning bras in the 70s, yadda yadda. But we don’t. We have more shame around our sex now than we’ve ever had, and the freedom we’ve experienced to date is to have sex like a man who hasn’t discovered his beast, not like the powerful feminine woman we all have buried in there. And just like you can’t turn on your beast overnight, I can’t get over the shame of being seen as a whore for owning my truly feminine power and sexual desire over a long weekend. If only human beings were that simple.

The good news is that there is a radical movement happening right now that is moving us collectively in this direction, one stroke, and one crossed wire, at a time.

And it’s called Orgasmic Meditation (OM).

A year ago if I had been asked what my sexual desire looked like, I might've blushed and then come up with a generic answer. I knew I loved getting pressed up against walls and taken off guard, but ask me for details on how to provoke that situation time and time again with any lover and I would've laughed in your face. I simply didn't believe in my own sexual power. My good sex was directly associated with the person with whom I shared the experience. Period.

One of the biggest things I've gained from my OM practice has been learning how to own my sexual expression, and to hold my own power. The innate nature of the practice - ask for an OM, surrender into the experience I've helped create, stay present and conscious in every moment, with every stroke - has helped me build a muscle I never knew existed while simultaneously melting off layers of conditioning I had around my desire.

As those layers melt off, I see where I've hidden from it, where I've denied its existence in favor of protecting feelings, both my own, and others. Expressing my true desire means taking unabashed responsibility for it, something I was unwilling to do for far too long out of fear of judgment or abandonment. The irony of that truth being that the longer I went not owning my desire - refusing to hold my own power - the more often I felt judged and abandoned.

And so here I am, a year later, owning my desire, standing in my rightful spot in possession of my power as a sexually emancipated woman, saying to you: if you love me, fuck me like you hate me. If you love me, let out your beast.